And all around, from every stump and tree,
Proceeded songs of praise, and songs of glee;
While men and beasts stood staring all the while,
To see creation ope her mouth and smile.
The earth has got of rain a good supply,
And every thing is wet that late was dry-
Now Nature's self with mighty legs and voice,
May skip in earthquakes and in songs rejoice,
While man the master of the tuneful throng,
Shall sound the pitch, and lead the choral song.

P. S. As such a storm does rarely fly
For nought across the azure sky,
'Tis said, that on the self-same night
Three cows were kill'd at Bolton by't!
Poor Mr. Wythe two years ago,
Had his barn burnt exactly so.

ECHO.....NO. XV.

From the New-York Journal, &e.

CITIZEN GREENLEAF,

By inserting the following in your useful paper, you will much CONSTANT READER.

oblige a

Fellow sons of Liberty!

WHEN I reflect on our present political situation, my heart

is too big for its little cabin: On the one hand, I observe a host of hellish despots conspiring against the liberties of mankind; on the other, a magnanimous people staking their all, and bravely resisting the torrent of universal misery.- -But what are my feelings, when I consider, that this very people, proud of our example, and stimulated by our virtuous career, have pledged every thing dear for us as well as themselves. Is it possible, can America coldly see her early, her only prop, her bosom friend, her sister republic, weighed with unrelenting fury to the ground?And do we expect to purchase peace and liberty by a degrading pusillanimity? No-The dæmons of despotic sway, if they succeed against our only hope, will soon send their engines of destruction among us--This devoted country they consider as the primary cause of the enlightened state of Europe. Methinks I see the Genius of Liberty, on the plains of France, veiling her eyes, and while with one hand she is wiping away the falling tear, the other is stretched towards America, in awful suspence-Behold her ye sons of Freedom--Ye, who revere the Cap of Liberty -This divine form, this celestial maid, groans over you-press her, press her to your bosoms! Could we see him, who for us

had, and would again, risk every thing, lift up his hand, while sinking in the storm, without a generous effort to rescue him?—— And can we be tame spectators to the struggles which the brave people of France are now making, to obtain that blessed state of political happiness which, through the exertions of the allied arms, we now enjoy? If we do, the indignation of Heaven will rest on our heads. Let us tell the diseased courts of Europe, we wish well to all mankind: but that we dearly love our brethren, the citizens of France-Let us entreat them to desist from their abominable cruelties to our friends-Let us use every peaceable, every laudable method, to intercede for them-Let us particularly, urge the Spaniards to assist their old friends and neighbours; and if they will not hear, let the Eagle of America spread her covering wings, and strike home among their southern settlements, and open a free trade for our citizens to those rich provinces, which heaven and nature intended to be free. If Frenchmen cannot stay at home, let the generous souls come here, and we will soon help them to the countries of their enemies.America proves unjust, I will take my children, and flee to the woods, where the hell-hounds of human misery cannot sail with their ships; From the cliffs of the Allegany hills, I will show them the ungrateful country which once was free: I will early open their young minds to the light of knowledge and the detestation of tyranny; I will teach them all the arts of war, and sing the praises of liberty; and while we plough the ground, I will inspire their minds with grateful sensations towards their beneficent Creator; and, if my country should rise, and look for aid, I will seize my rifle, and with my boys, descend into the plains, and hurl destruction on the enemies of freedom, or fall in the attempt.

-If

A SON OF LIBERTY.

HARTFORD, SEPTEMBER 2d, 1793.

"Ye lineal heirs of Doctor Faust,*
*
"By watchful freedom hourly crost,
"Who like your Siret yourselves have sold,
"And leagu'd with hell for G's gold,
"Look up, and see with guilty dread,

"The vengeance bursting o'er your head."

Good Master GREENLEAF,S thou, whose press still teenis
With riot's visions, and with faction's schemes,

Whose owlish eyes the dark recess explore,
Where hid in ambush lie the slaves of power,
And, strange to tell, have grown so very keen,
As to see things that never yet were seen―
Such things as other eyes will ne'er behold,
'Till Time's last era into birth is roll'd-
Have found the secret spot-that spot unblest,

Where regal Tyranny had built her nest,

Where once each year she hatch'd her cursed brood,
And let them loose to prey on human blood,

The inventor of printing, commonly called Dr. Faustus.

The story of the Devil and Dr. Faustus, is well known.

Of this worthy promoter of anarchy honourable mention is made in the following lines taken from a poem lately written, descriptive of Citizen -t's intended journey through the eastern states:

G.

" TOM GREENLEAF, with a mighty horn,

Before him proudly rode

And stoutly ever and anon

With all his might he blow'd.'

For a further account of this poem see Supplementary Notes

Thence slily stole the addled eggs away,
To throw at Hamilton, at King and Jay-
Thou patriot cit, to whom all gracious Heaven,
A kind supply of impudence has given,
And privileg'd most other men beyond,
To rail at merit wheresoe'er tis found.

While brother Freneau groans in deep dismay,
Lest you at length should steal his trade away,
While Franklin's grandson, thunder-gotten Bache,
Declares thy tones are far beyond his reach,
(Though from his venal press big sounds arise,
And Pascal's bleatings fill th' astonish❜d skies),
And Cockey Adams from Bostonia's shore,
Responds to every bray and every roar--
To thee this offspring of my brain I send,
That your kind hand its fostering aid may lend,
And through the medium of your paper give
The little brat at least nine days to live.

My heart with politics so big is grown

Its little cabin scarce can hold its own;
As where luxuriant waves the corn on high,
In verdant rows alluring to the eye,

If chance some ox by strong temptation woo'd
Crams his keen stomach with the luscious food,
Too late he finds, too proud to be controul'd
His granary bigger than his skin can hold.
On the one hand, we see with weeping eyes,
A host of despots against Freedom rise;
And on the second, a tremendous people,
Hanging their friends on lantern-post and steeple;

In Greek Boanerges.